


Uncle Felix Saves the Day

by LorraineMarker



Series: Adventures in Babysitting [1]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-18
Updated: 2010-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:31:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LorraineMarker/pseuds/LorraineMarker





	Uncle Felix Saves the Day

The yellow sippy cup sailed across the room to collide with Hotdog’s head and splash him with grape flavored children’s drink.

“No, no, no! Purple,” Hera screamed.

“Sweetie, that was the purple drink,” Racetrack explained. She had no idea babysitting could be this hard. Gaeta did it all the time and never had a problem. They’d gone through all three sippy cups and four drink mix flavors as she got more and more vocal about their doing it wrong. That was the first and last cup to go sailing. Racetrack didn’t plan on giving her another cup until she figured this out.

“This can’t be this hard.” Hotdog mopped up sticky grape drink from his face with a towel. “At least now we know why they have so many towels. Who knew toddlers were so messy.”

Hera sat down still sniffing and whined, “Purple.

“Racetrack, I think we need to call Helo and Athena.”

“Absolutely not, this is their first night to themselves in months. We’re going to figure this out.”

“Thirsty! Purple!”

“We could call Gaeta again,” Hotdog said.

“We’re perfectly capable of figuring this out,” Racetrack said. They couldn’t keep calling for help every time Hera fussed. They’d already called him about Sarah Kitty (her stuffed turtle which caused no end of confusion), figuring out the location of her blanket (she tended to hide it at under her mom’s pillow), and what the frak she was asking for when she said, ‘dry eal’ (dry cereal).

“Uncle Felix makes purple.” Hera’s tone was the one that Racetrack had come to recognize as five seconds from full tilt temper tantrum.

Apparently, they were calling Gaeta on this one, too. “Okay, call Gaeta.” This was so embarrassing, Gaeta was on duty and every frakking call had to go through comms. Dee laughed her head off all three times and even Gaeta laughed last time.

“Me?”

“It’s your turn.”

She listened with half an ear as Hotdog explained the problem first to Dee and then finally when she transferred him to Gaeta (it took a while for her to stop laughing so hard that Racetrack could hear her over the comset across the room) to him. The next thing she heard was Hotdog’s, “They’re color coded. You’re shitting me!”

“Hotdog!” she yelled at the same time Gaeta did over the comset.

Hera did exactly what she always did with a new word. “Shitting, shitting, shitting, shitting, shitting.” She repeated it, voraciously.  

“Frak,” he muttered, then “opps” at Gaeta and Racetrack’s second yelled, “Hotdog!”

Racetrack stormed across the room and smacked Hotdog when Hera’s chant changed to, “frak, frak, frak, frak.”

“Racetrack, smack him again for me,” Gaeta yelled.

She smacked Hotdog a second time. “I’m on it, Gaeta.” She waited until Hotdog hung up.

“Color coded?”

“Her favorite color is purple, but she hates the grape drink. Solution red and blue make purple.” He grabbed the red cup and made the blue raspberry drink in it. “Hera.” He offered.

“Purple!”  

“Okay, Gaeta is spending way too much time babysitting that little girl if she’s already color coding her food,” Racetrack observed.  

***

“Dee, you need to stop laughing before you fall out of your chair again,” Gaeta told her.

 


End file.
